


Dean's Struggle

by GlassRoom



Series: Dean and Cas [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Closet Dean, Feels, Hurt Dean, Little smut, M/M, Understanding Sam, Yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-14 21:10:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5758948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlassRoom/pseuds/GlassRoom





	Dean's Struggle

Dean slid Baby into her designated stall in the parking garage of the bunker, leaving a bit of room in the rear for access. They spilled out of the car and went around to the back where Dean opened the trunk. All three stared at the sheer number of bags to be brought in and put away.

“All right, let's get it done,” Sam said with resignation as he started to load up his arms with bags.

Not to be outdone, Dean also grabbed as many as possible.

“Dean,” Cas admonished. “You are in no shape to be straining yourself. Here, I will take them.” Cas reached out and tried to remove the bags from Dean's hands.

“I've got it,” Dean insisted. “Take those,” he said indicating the remainder in the trunk.

Cas happily took the rest and banged the trunk shut. He let the brothers walk ahead of him, just in case Dean changed his mind and wanted to pass off some bags without Sam seeing. He didn't. By the time they got into the kitchen Dean was looking strained. Cas tried to catch his eye but Dean was having none of that.

“You guys want your stuff washed?” Sam asked as they dumped the bags on and around the table.

“Like dirty stuff?” Dean asked nervously, thinking of the shirts he'd used for cleanup earlier in the day and last night. He did not want his brother touching those, thank you very much. Dean popped open a beer and offered one to Sam, who accepted.

“No, the new stuff. Your shirts and Cas's sheets, all the new fabric.”

“Why do you wash new things?” Cas asked with a furrowed brow. “Aren't they clean already?” Cas opened a bag, poking around for his things.

“To get the sizing out,” Sam replied. Before Cas could ask Sam continued. “Manufacturers put sizing in fabrics so they look nice in the store. It makes the colours a bit brighter and the fabric look a little shiny. The sizing bothers some people so it's good to wash your new stuff. Also, you don't know who else has tried on your stuff before you.” Sam took a swig of beer and started putting groceries away.

“Yeah, let's just wash all of it,” Dean decided. He took a large swallow of beer with more Tylenol and sat down, content to watch his brother

“Seriously Dean? You're not going to help?” Sam waved his arm at the ocean of bags.

Dean shrugged and smiled at Sam. “I'm hurt, remember, wouldn't want to strain myself.” With that he drained his beer and reached for another.

Sam considered pitching cans at his brother until he was really hurt. “Fine. Show Cas the laundry then and I'll put away all the food. Fair?”

“Fine,” Dean grumbled.

“I will get all the dirty clothes,” Cas stated and started to walk away.

“No! Uh...I mean, I'll get the dirty stuff and you start taking the tags off the new stuff. Meet me in the laundry room.” Without looking at either of them, Dean went to the bedrooms and collected his clothes. He considered not bothering with Sam's stuff just out of spite but thought better of it. Sam kept his room neat and his dirty clothes were in a hamper instead of on the floor like Dean's, so he dumped his dirty stuff on top of Sam's and took the hamper the laundry room.

Dean was relieved when he got to there and it was empty. He took a minute to put his cleanup shirts in the washer first so he wouldn't have to explain that to Cas. He was in the middle of making piles when Cas showed up with a very full armload of clothes...and the beer Dean had left in the kitchen. “Thanks Cas,” Dean said as he took the beer from him and swallowed a bunch. “You know how to do laundry?”

“It goes in the washer and comes out clean, then into the dryer,” Cas informed him as he started to cram the whole armload in the washer.

“Whoa, hold on there, we sort it first. Light colours and dark colours, jeans and towels separate.” Dean quickly made piles and added clothes to the shirts in the washer. “Then soap, not too much, just enough depending on the load size. Then start.” Dean started the machine and leaned back on it, downing the rest of the beer. He looked at the empty bottle with a sigh. It went down way too fast.

Cas watched Dean carefully. He noticed how jittery Dean was and that Dean would look over at him but not in the eye. “Dean...you said we could talk when we got back...” Cas trailed off unsure of how to start.

Dean cleared his throat and stared at his boots. A full beer would be very good right now. Or a mickey of whiskey. Or both. “Cas..I...” he wiped his mouth as if to erase the words he wanted to say. “Cas,” he started again setting his empty bottle on the washer. “Look, uh, I don't know what to say, I'm...” Dean looked at Cas and saw those beautiful blue eyes staring back with concern. Maybe it was the beer but he thought Cas looked positively angelic. _Well duh,_ his mind said back to him, _he's an angel dumbass._ Dean took a moment to take Cas in; the dark, ruffled hair, the rumpled overcoat, the loosely tied tie, the five o'clock shadow, those eyes... _they will be your undoing,_ his mind whispered to him. Dean struggled mightily between the desire to feel his tongue tangle with Cas's and the deep confusion about Cas's gender.

Cas waited Dean out, quietly watching Dean's discomfort slowly take over. Dean's mossy green eyes were tearing up and his face was twisting with whatever torturous thoughts ran through his mind. He kept shuffling his feet around and shifting position against the washer, occasionally gripping it behind him like a drowning man clinging to a lifeline.

Dean turned away from Cas and ran his hands through his hair to buy some time. He brushed the tears away and planted both hands on the washer. “Cas,” he choked.

“Dean,” Cas interrupted. He wanted nothing more than to take Dean in his arms and comfort him, but not like this. Not if Dean was going to push him away again. He resigned himself to wait until Dean was ready. “This seems very difficult for you. Would you like some time-”

“Yes!” Dean whipped around and faced Cas, relief dancing out of every pore. A shadow of guilt passed through Dean at the look on Cas's face. “Some time,” he croaked. Clearing his throat he started again. “Some time would be great, thanks Cas. Really, thanks.”

Cas's shoulders slumped forward as he nodded. “I will finish the laundry while you two get some research done.”

“Yeah, research,” Dean said under his breath. His day involved food and beer at this point. But research was a good idea, see where Sam was at with Cas's grace. He didn't know what else to say so he left, turning back once. He gazed at Cas's back and felt such intense longing that his breath caught in his throat. Cas started to turn around but Dean left before he could meet Cas's eyes.

Cas sensed Dean's pause and turned around with hope, just in time to see Dean whip his head around and head out the door. He took a step towards the door before remembering to give Dean some space. Instead he settled himself and waited for the washer to finish.

 

Dean went directly to the kitchen for another beer, thought better of it and grabbed the whiskey instead. After a healthy slug directly from the bottle he wandered to the common room and saw Sam with his nose in some books.

Sam looked up and saw the bottle first and Dean's STFU expression second. He raised his eyebrow and returned his attention to the book in front of him. “Hey Dean, I might have a bit of a lead on Cas's grace. He said he heard something vague on Angel Radio and it looks like it might have some merit.”

“When did you talk to Cas about that?” Dean demanded. As soon as it was out of his mouth he realized he sounded stupidly possessive. “Never mind. What lead, what are you talking about?” He took another generous swig of whiskey.

Sam went on to explain a bit about it and where it could lead. He was about to go on about how he thought they should proceed, instead he asked, “hey, what's up? Are you OK? Like, really OK?”

Dean sulked for a minute, staring intently into the mouth of the bottle. He wanted to make sense of how he felt about Cas. Talking to someone would help, and he trusted his brother more than anyone else. Except Cas. The thought of Cas made him close his eyes and grip the bottle tighter.

“Dean? I'm getting a bit worried over here. Something's bugging you, I can see that, anyone looking at you can see that. Seriously, can I help?” Sam wondered if he should say something more specific, something about Cas.

The alcohol was starting to make Dean feel a bit fuzzy. He looked at his brother and saw only concern in his face. “Sammy...” Dean fidgeted, unsure of how to continue. “I don't know...”

When it looked like Dean wasn't going to add anything Sam decided he'd had enough of waiting. “Dean. Dean, look at me.”

Dean resisted for a beat and avoided Sam's gaze by swallowing more whiskey instead.

“Dean,” Sam said firmly.

“What are you, my dad?” Dean growled and ultimately looked over at his brother.

“No. I'm not dad. But I think that's where some of your problems lie, isn't it?”

“Watch your mouth Sammy,” Dean warned. He didn't like anyone dissing their dad. Not even Sam.

Sam took a moment to choose his words very carefully. “You seem to think that the only way you can honour dad is to be a soldier. To be everything you think a soldier is. But you know dad loved you because you are you, right?” Sam watched his brother take that in through the haze of impending drunkenness. Seeing Dean struggle he tried again. “Look, dad and I didn't have the best relationship in the world, but I know that you have made him proud. And nothing Dean, nothing, will take that away.”

Dean felt like he was about to cry so he distracted himself with more alcohol. “You think so, really?” he asked in the tiniest voice.

“Yes, I do. I also think that the person that is judging you the harshest is you, Dean, no one else.” Sam watched his brother fiddle with the label on the bottle. “And Dean, just so we're clear, there is nothing you could do or be that would drive me away. I've got your back, understand?”

Sam couldn't be saying what Dean thought he was saying, no way. “Nothing?” he whispered.

“Nothing. With everything we've gone through I'm surprised you don't already know that.”

A tear escaped Dean's eye and trickled down his cheek. Sam resisted the urge to brush it away and instead got up and took the bottle from his brother. “Why don't you go lie down for a bit, think about things and maybe sleep off some of the whiskey.”

Dean nodded without looking up. The bedrooms seemed ridiculously far away and his limbs felt way too uncoordinated to figure it out. Sam appeared by his side and Dean almost asked him if he could fly like Cas. “C'mon, I'll help you to the couch.”

Sam practically dragged Dean over to the couch they'd bought for movie nights. As much as Sam liked company, he didn't always like sharing the TV in his room so they bought a big one for the bunker along with a couch. Dean flopped himself down unceremoniously and was asleep almost instantly.

 

Sam continued his research for the rest of the afternoon while Dean snored noisily on the couch. Well, mostly research, also random Internet browsing. He glanced up in time to see Cas with an armful of clothes. “These are clean.” He was about to drop them on the table when Sam stopped him.

“Whoa, let's put them away, all right? Need help carrying them?”

“No, I've got them. To the bedrooms?”

“Yeah, let's start with Dean's since he's passed out.” The two of them went into Dean's room and Cas dumped the clothes on the bed in a big pile. “Here, sort them out into three piles. Mine, yours, and Dean's.” Once that was done, Sam told him to take his pile and put them away in his room.

“What about Dean's?”

“Dean can put his own clothes away when he wakes up.”

Cas gave a small shrug, grabbed his pile and went to his room. Sam gathered his own and took them to his room. Putting them away he noticed his hamper was missing so he made a mental note to bring it back when he got a chance. On his way back to the common room he saw movement in Dean's room. He peeked in and saw Cas neatly hanging up Dean's new clothes.

 

Dean woke up with a groan and almost rolled right off the couch. Cas reached out, caught him, and helped him sit up. “You watching me sleep again Cas? Creepy,” Dean commented out of rote. Truth be told he was quite flattered. “Oh god my head.” He put his elbows on his knees and head in his hands while he took deep breaths. He drank way too much, way too fast.

Sam watched his brother for a minute before moving a garbage bin so it was accessible to Dean.

“Why does he need the-”

“I'm not going to-” Cas and Dean said at the same time, just before Dean's stomach ejected its contents into the bin. Mostly.

“That looked unpleasant. Are you all right?” Cas put his arm around Dean for comfort and for once, Dean didn't shrug it off or move away.

Dean groaned again. “I'm done.”

“I doubt it.”

“Sam, if he says he's done then-”

Dean leaned over and let the rest come out, getting all of it in the bin this time.

“How much does the stomach hold?” Cas mused.

“Now he's done.” Sam handed Dean a box of tissues. “Go clean up, brush your teeth.” Dean obeyed without a word leaving the mess behind, head hung with shame.

Sam sighed dramatically and began to clean up after his brother.

“How did you know he wasn't done, and is done now?” Cas looked at Sam without offering to help clean.

“We've lived together a long time, Cas. It's not the first time he's drank like that. Usually he takes it slower so he just gets a nice buzz. But sometimes he tries to drown his stress too quickly and, well, this happens. You going to help clean up?”

“It's kind of disgusting,” Cas observed.

Sam laughed at that. “Yeah, it is. The human body is full of disgusting stuff sometimes. You were human once, don't you remember?”

“I never did that,” Cas pointed at the full pail.

“Well, depending on how long your grace lasts, you might be human again soon and it might happen. But I think Dean would clean you up if it does.” Sam gathered the cleaning supplies and picked up the pail. “Cas?”

Cas was looking at Sam through narrowed eyes. “You know something. I've stayed out of your minds for a long time now, since Dean told me to, but I can see that you know something. You said Dean is drinks to drown his stress. There haven't been any hunts for a while, what is causing Dean stress?” Enlightenment was dawning on Cas. His expression slowly changed from suspicion to pleading, and a touch of fear. “Tell me, please. Have I done something?” Cas sounded worried.

Sam cast a glance back at the hallway to the bedrooms to make sure Dean wasn't standing there. “No, Cas you haven't. Not really.” Cas's eyes widened a bit in shock. “No, Cas, wait.” Sam looked behind him again. He really did not want to speak for Dean. Turning back, he said quickly, “it's not that you've done something, it's more that Dean is confused about how he feels about some stuff. It's going to take a while for him to come to terms with it. But he will, just give him some time. He will talk about it when he's ready, OK?”

Cas nodded in time to see Dean emerge from the hallway. “Do you feel better Dean?”

Sam turned around to see his brother, pale and rough around the edges. “I'm going to get rid of this,” Sam lifted the pail a bit, “then we need to check on your stitches. Sit down in the kitchen with your shirt off.”

Dean avoided Sam's eyes. “Yeah. Sure. Uh, sorry about that,” Dean indicated the pail. “Thanks for cleaning it up, Sammy. I'll do better.”

“Yeah.” Sam had heard it before. Thankfully it didn't happen often. “Shirt off.” Sam left Cas and Dean alone.

“Can I please help Dean?” Cas wanted Dean in his arms so much it almost hurt. He couldn't stand to see Dean in any kind of pain.

“No. Not this time Cas. This is self inflicted so I'll just take the pain as my punishment this time.” He finally looked up enough to see Cas's deep blue eyes full of concern...and hurt? Dean's own heart squeezed at the idea that Cas would be hurt, but it seemed like all he did lately was injure Cas somehow. He felt like the world's biggest fuckup. “Can you help me with my shirt?” He asked tentatively. “I don't want to snag the bandages trying to get it off.”

Gratefully, Cas followed Dean into the kitchen. He stood behind Dean and moved his hands under the shirt, holding it away from Dean's back while Dean lifted it up and over his head. Cas laid a hand on Dean's bare shoulder away from the stitches and before he could stop himself, he leaned in and kissed Dean lightly on the back of the neck. A small noise escaped Dean's lips at the feeling of Cas's warm lips resting on his tired neck. Sam came into the kitchen in time to see his brother looking positively ecstatic for a flash before he started to shut down again. Cas backed up and let go of Dean's shoulder while Dean sat down, hugging the back of a chair. “Get it over with,” he demanded.

Sam sighed mightily. He set the first aid kit down on the table and washed his hands. “OK, here we go.” Sam peeled off all the gauze and tape and inspected the stitches. “They are ready to come out, no infection. You ready?” Sam knew Dean absolutely hated the feeling of the thread moving through his skin as stitches were pulled out.

“Yes. No. Fuck, can't they just stay in forever? It's the grossest thing in the world,” he grumbled clutching the back of the chair hard.

Cas sat down opposite Dean and said “no, what was in the pail was the grossest.”

Sam and Dean looked at Cas. “Did you just make a joke?” Dean asked incredulously.

Cas merely smiled a bit, lifted an eyebrow, and gave a slight nod. Both brothers laughed full and long for the first time in a while. Dean's hands loosened their death grip on the chair so Cas reached out and took them into his own. “I will ease some of the pain as Sam cuts your stitches.” Dean started to resist but thought better of it. Instead he squeezed Cas's hands and thanked him in a low voice. Cas looked up at Sam and nodded, Sam gave a nod back and got to work on the stitches.

It didn't take long, but for Dean it was an eternity. There was no pain, thanks to Cas, but the feeling of revulsion was not lessened at all. By the time Sam was done Dean looked like he was in danger of filling another pail.

“Dean? Wasn't I able to help?”

Dean saw that Cas looked like a lost puppy. “Yeah, there was no pain at all...just...oh god...” He swallowed hard a few times and shuddered violently.

“Sam.” Cas commanded.

Sam moved lightning fast and got a bowl under Dean just in time. Cas went to the sink and wet a washcloth but hesitated about bringing it over to Dean. “Sam, is he done?” he asked cautiously.

“Yeah, I think so.” Sam turned away and cleaned up. Again.

Cas moved the washcloth over Dean's mouth and Dean let him for a moment before putting his hand on top of Cas's. “Thanks.” Dean took the cloth from Cas and finished up. “Sorry about that. I, well, I uh, it's just, um,” he stammered.

“It's OK,” Sam rescued him. “You probably shouldn't have had so much to drink, and I probably could have waited to pull the stitches. It's weird though, you can kill a demon and get goo all over you, but this is what does you in.”

“Sammy,” Dean warned grabbing his shirt.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. It's done.” Sam waited a beat. “Dean?”

“What,” he grumped.

“Do you remember what we talked about before you passed out?”

Dean's face flushed and he lowered his head. “Yeah, I do,” he said softly while twisting his shirt in his hands.

“All of it?”

Dean nodded.

Sam looked at his brother, reasonably confidant that he did indeed remember. “OK. I'm starving. You want anything to eat?”

Dean turned slightly green. “Fuck no. I want sleep.” He started to walk away and turned back. “Hey Cas,” he asked shyly.

“Yes Dean,” he said eagerly.

“Can we talk?” The poor shirt in Dean's hands was being strangled.

“Of course.” Cas led the way out of the kitchen, understanding that Dean wanted to be private.

Dean cast a frightened glance back to his brother and was flooded with relief to see only kindness reflected back at him. He turned back and followed Cas out of the kitchen.


End file.
